Monday, November 25, 2013

Yet, the fantasy was a nightmare, because this woman was not what she seemed.

Her name was....."Sangre".

A.H Scott takes you into a new dimension - "Sangre (Daughters Of the Rose Moon)"

Excerpt - “Valeria, he told me he loves me” She gave a proud smile in acknowledging that miracle “We made love” Blissfully recalling those moments of magic “I left him sleeping in bed and went into the bathroom” Visibly showing Valeria the bane of despair, she pulled up her pink cotton tee shirt, “Then this, Valeria”.

Having to see Sangre’s flesh for what it is, Valeria placed hand over mouth, “Does he know?”

Sangre hated to admit the truth to anyone, but had to tell everything to Valeria, “When the sun rises” Inhaling the air, as if courage were in the wind, “He will”.

Valeria knew Sangre better than anyone. She’d seen the tears and fears of this young woman in all its’ vividness. Event of this night was the last thing she ever wanted Sangre to have to deal with, “My heart is with you, dearest one” Placing Sangre’s smooth hand in her wrinkled one, “Get some sleep and things will be as they should be in the morning”.

“I just wanted….” Sangre looked downward in a pause and said a trio of words she never thought would come from her lips, “…To taste life”.

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Justice is just right when a hero is in sight. When an honest man takes a stand, evil schemes don't go as planned. This is "Trouble At Timber Trail (A Russell Harmon Western)".

In 1863, a stranger in the tiny town of Appleton, Montana comes to the aid of the locals in their battle against a greedy land baron. When an honest man takes a stand, evil schemes don't go as planned.

The stranger was Russell Harmon, a drifter from back East.

Just looking for a fair day's work and a meal along the way; he and his old paint, Sugarfoot, are in the right place and time to save the day.

Everyone who came in contact with Russell Harmon called him Dusty. As for gallantry, this man's armor was never rusty.

Come along for the adventure in A.H. Scott's "Trouble At Timber Trail (A Russell Harmon Western)".

Excerpt -....Riding through the town of Appleton, Dusty and his horse, Sugarfoot, stopped to wet their whistles. Dusty held a bucket in the trough to feed Sugarfoot. The water was cool and the air was dry. As Dusty sat on the edge of the trough, Sugarfoot guzzled from the bucket.

A sudden blast of screams from within the Jones Bank. It was Henry Jones and his assistant, Barney Smith, arguing with cattle rancher, Hiram Wilson.

Henry Jones, whose Jones Bank of Appleton was the heart of this small town; had a silver head of hair and expanding waistline.

Land baron and cattle rancher, Hiram Wilson. was slender with a trimmed mustache and tidy haircut.

Jones kept telling Wilson that there was no way that he would sell the property at Timber Trail. This property was recently brought by Jones for he and his Family. Timber Trail was located twenty years fro the cliff that overlooked Appleton. Watching like a mischievous child, he gazed at this explosion of vocal chords.

"What are you looking at pardn'r?" , Wilson screamed at Dusty with a growl in his voice.

Stranger in this town with ashy blonde hair and a fit build ran a hand along Sugarfoot's back, as he was roped into this argument.

"Hey Mister, I'm just soaking up the flavor of this town, that's all" Dusty replied with a smile on his face. Even Sugarfoot neighed at his response with a knowing glee.

"Walker!! Get the carriage! We're leaving right now!!" Wilson screamed at his ranch-hand. Willie Walker was short and slim, like a weed. His slimy grin and limp made him look as if he slithered.

Dusty watched as the carriage grew smaller in the distance. Henry Jones came over to Dusty with a grin on his face, "Son, you are one brave tadpole! I have never seen anyone tell Wilson which way is up, like you have! What's your name, kid?"

"I'm Russell Harmon. But, my friends call me Dusty" , he said with a wink in his brown eyes......- end of excerpt

Sunday, September 29, 2013

"The lies which we tell ourselves can construct a spine to the weak and a reflection in the mirror that masks a reality which we never wish to speak." - from the "Over My Head" saga, penned by A.H. Scott

Over My Head: Tightrope (BOOK ONE) -

Secrets are like a rash. Irritation. Agitation. Frustration. Yet, they always rise to the surface.

A husband's secret becomes a wife's gamble. Question is: Can a balancing act last forever? Or is trippin' just a price of marriage? This is "Over My Head: Tightrope", the first book in the four part "Over My Head" saga.

Larry & Angie made for a lovely portrait. Yet, fractures of their marriage weren't easily seen behind the gossamer veneer of charming smile and supportive caress. Puncturing the surface of this couple revealed a relationship not so rosy.

The lies which we tell ourselves can construct a spine to the weak and a reflection in the mirror that masks a reality which we never wish to speak.

And, to think - it all began with a single kiss.....

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Over My Head: Inferno (BOOK TWO) -

Even the sightless can see themselves in the catbird seat......

Opportunities can be like balloons. Sometimes elevated by an optimistic breeze. Sometimes obliterated by arrows through burning trees. It all depends on who controls the air of effectiveness.This is "Over My Head: Inferno", the second book in the four part "Over My Head" saga.

The lies which we tell ourselves can cosntruct a spine to the weak and a reflection in the mirror that masks a reality which we never wish to speak.

A wife. A husband. A lover.

Devotion came in a single kiss.

Sex. Money. Power. Lies. Obsession. Murder.

No one gets out of this life without paying a price.

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Over My Head: Haywire (BOOK THREE) -

Regret does not eradicate the past....

In life, sometimes a queen of hearts doesn't hold all the aces.

The lies which we tell ourselves can construct a spine to the weak and a reflection in the mirror that masks a reality which we never wish to speak.

Circumstances for Angela Chase change in a wave of catastrophic events. Can a wayward wife stay afloat? Or, will she drown in being "Over My Head"? This is "Over My Head: Haywire", the third book in the four part "Over My Head" saga.

A wife. A husband. A lover.

Devotion came in a single kiss.

Sex. Money. Power. Lies. Obsession. Murder.

No one gets out of this life without paying a price.

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Over My Head: Salvation (BOOK FOUR) -

Love holds no sanity......

Love can make a man sacrifice everything for just the sake of being alive. Being cherished in the heart of the woman he loved was his only wish. Or, was this just a soul ensnared in the myth of love's dream.

Find out just how far a man would go for the woman he loves in "Over My Head: Salvation"; the stunning conclusion of A.H. Scott's "Over My Head" saga.

A wife. A husband. A lover.

Devotion came in a single kiss.

Sex. Money. Power. Lies. Obsession. Murder.

No one gets out of this life without paying a price.

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Stop by and pick your copy of all four parts of the "Over My Head Saga" - "Tightrope", "Inferno", "Haywire" and "Salvation" from Amazon (worldwide) and Smashwords.

Murder in a sleepy Michigan town leads to an investigation that uncovers a conspiracy just beneath the cloak of civility.

A couple attacked. Two lives destroyed. Truths become exposed in the harshest way to avoid.

When "Buckets Of Rain" cascade, illusions of secrets in life's blind spots begin to fade.

A.H. Scott pulls the trigger on a thriller that's truly a killer.

Even days when the sun shines brightest, "Buckets Of Rain" fall.

The most dangerous place to be is at the helm of hubris.

Excerpt -

Neither he, nor she knew of any persons that could be considered as enemies, yet this shadow in their lives, operated under the auspices of someone both knew very well. DeeDee's delightful dawn with Tang, became a verification of information that could be desperately desired by a sole person.

Male in late thirties with toothpick motioning back and forth, between his tight lips; made for a slightly frenzied sight to anyone on that road. Black suede jacket, blue tank top and jeans, made for a costume of plainness for him.

Armed with folders full of photographs and written items, this blue car made it's way to a Hoxeyville home. Aromatic flowers and neatly manicured lawn, greeted the solitary visitor of silence. Standing in the stately doorway, this man held several, medium sized packages under his left arm. Nearly one hundred and fifty pounds and height of about six foot, his personage was that of a finely fit pugilist.

Three bells sounded, as a thumb was pressed onto doorbell. Surprised at who greeted this person, it was need for a light phrase, "Must be the maid's day off".

In a single motion of a right hand, the occupant of this home spoke volumes with no words. Leading guest past several rooms on the ground floor, they made their way into a walnut paneled library. Closing double doors behind them, a smile came over this homeowner's face, "Is that what I think it is, sir".

Placing items onto mahogany desk, he replied, "It's more than you could ever expect to have".

"Beautiful place here" ,looking at the lavish decor.

"Come on, sit down and relax" ,chuckling genially at this man in his home, a slightly older male pulled out a chair behind this desk.

Slim fingers slowly tapped that ornate desk, as that wiry body sat down. Hands grasped both arms of this redwood seat, "I should have made my way out to these parts earlier. This is truly a home" ,gazing around this room, his eyes glistened with a sliver of resentment.

"How long have you been in town?"

"Long enough to start on your project".

"How's your father?"

"The old man's like leather" ,gently chuckling, he added soem pepper into the mix, "Tough as hell, but righteous for the right ground".

"And his son, is an admirable sort of lad".

"Coming from you, sir, that's a remark of high regard".

Knowing that time was of the essence, the core of summoning this younger man to his home came forward, "I place my trust in you, Mr. Arrington".

"Ooh, why so formal?"

"Because, this is business" ,a solemn stare came over him, while motioning an index finger towards Arrington.

Speaking of that, sir. I can remember a glorious dialogue you had in my neck of the woods, a while back" ,smirking, he continued, "You spoke about business being more than just dollars and cents".

"Simply put, sir" ,repeating what he'd heard in a previous time, "Blood, sweat, and oh so many tears. It's what makes the machine keep on turning".

Motioning forward, he shook this younger male's right hand and spoke an apt word of praise, "Bulleye!!!"

Hoxeyville's mystery man, Gaylord Victor Arrington, could sit across the desk of a somewhat refined elder and give a smile of perceptiveness. Dark brown hair, slicked back in an almost wet fashion, gave this male of lanky physique a slithery complexion. This Valdosta, Georgia resident had an expertise that this homeowner desired to procure.

Loathing his given first name; propelled him in using the more apt calling card of Victor. The only people that uses Gaylord, remained both parents, which occured at those moments of family tension. Victor was what he wanted to achieve and with the assistance of present benefactor, thus, he would be that conquering namesake.

Born near the Florida border, in Iron City, to Webster Arrington from Rayle and his wife Harriet Cordelia Templar of Camilla, they lived in temperate comfort. Owning combination restaurant and dance hall, since winter of 1940, Bob's BBQ Barn maintained a bustling occupancy in Sylvester, due to it's close location to Turner Air Force Base.

Presently, a specific task was needed to be handled and Victor was more than eager to fulfill any duty. No price was too high and as for any ethical qualms, it took a paltry back seat in Arrington's mobile of arrogance. - End Of Excerpt

Arlington Cross made a decision that would change the variables on those persons attending that August auction. Down to five people, Cross Collectibles' sale of those treasured items of Manon Balletti might have a higher worth to all whom were invited.

Pulling himself together slowly, Cross made his way back to the company of a pleasurable dinner guest. As the key opened the apartment door lock, he looked around the room.

With her back turned to him, Pao Tse-Ling cheerfully made a greeting, "I was just looking through your musical albums, Arlington. You're a quite devoted listener to the finer melodies of the ages.”

"Pao" His body motioned slowly towards her, as Arlington's sore flesh attempted to project a state of normality. Cross didn't want his dinner guest to unmask the actual physical reality that befell him inside of Cross Collectibles.

Stream of dark brown hair moved as Pao turned to face him, "Arlington?" Wrinkle of concern came across that serene swan, "My God! What happened to you?"

Cross slumped against a cream colored sofa and sighed with sorrow, "Just a little accident, is all,” Playing the strong, romantic lead in this evening's supper with a glistening pearl of China, Arlington put up a brave front for her.

"I'm going to get you something for those bruises,” Feet marched into kitchen, wetting a cloth towel and returning to him, "Just come and sit down on the sofa.”

"I'm fine, Pao,” Shrugging with indifference to being under another human being's care, trying to wave her away.

Tse-Ling wasn't going to take no for an answer, "Cross, now's not the time to play the hero,” Smirking in disbelief over his feign words of feeling fine, honesty drizzled to him, "Putting it bluntly, Arlington; you look like you've been hit by an eighteen-wheeler truck.”

He relented and sat down onto the sofa slowly. Pao began dabbing bloodied flesh with yellow cloth. Wincing from her gentle touch, Arlington wished he'd gone to the hospital for a check-up before coming home, "Oh, ouch!"

"Don't worry, Arlington,” Tenderly whispering to this wounded eagle, she placed the towel onto the cherry wood, coffee table, "You're in good hands.”

Rising upward, Pao Tse-Ling snickered downward, "Oh, this isn't being done especially for you, Cross. Even if you weren't the man whose auction will place those sweet gems into mine,” Left index finger began to outline his face slightly, "I wouldn't wish any being to hurt.”

Sore right hand wandered up to her left and held it to be kissed once, "Benign and beautiful. What more can anyone expect from you, Pao Tse-Ling?"

"Arlington, you might just be surprised" Pao bent down towards him and returned that smooch to Cross "Moments of mirth" When those tender lips met his, Tse-Ling was slightly taken aback by her own actions.. She was a woman who'd previously shied away from displaying affection. Alas, with Arlington Cross, motion and emotion took hold of Pao.

In an attempt to stand up, Pao Tse-Ling placed both hands onto the table edge and head towards that coffee table.

Reaching down and pecking that soft hand, Arlington became quite bashful in Pao's presence. Embracing and locking lips, both knew this evening would turn out very differently than they'd planned.

Arlington's bedroom may have not been a palatial location that his guest was used to. But, it contained a singular item of unimaginable grandeur, a large bed.

Black comforter with white and red swiggle design across it came to be an invitation to a tango of oncoming temptation.

Canvas shoes of green, made tiny steps across the bedroom floor, "So, this is the alchemist's arena?" Ling's mouth formed a grin at Cross, as his left hand slid the light switch upward.

On the left side of the bedroom, a bureau of dark red color had several things lying on its counter. Comb, brush, square mirror, and a pile of papers, made for a messy sight to any visitor.

The bedroom's opposite side had a brown trunk with copper fixtures upon it. And, an oak table situated directly next to it. Topping this structure was a turntable with a glistening sliver of vintage vinyl.

Arlington Cross selected an apt tune for the evening's premiere performance. Album on turntable, he placed silver arm and needle into its minute groove.

Frank Sinatra's tempered tone and Nelson Riddle's orchestration gave breath to this maudlin sliver of wax from 1958. Seven tiered diamonds next to Sinatra's face of Pagliacci regret, gave any person lucky enough to hear these fourteen tracks a twisted heartstring. First movement began to fill this Vancouver bedroom with "Frank Sinatra Sings for Only the Lonely.”

Concept albums of varied artists were just another chic sprinkle of diamond dust atop the world of collectible's dealer Arlington Cross. Trinket treasures being sold onto the Canadian and international markets nicely twinned to glistening gems of melodious magic.

Sounds of Sinatra's soul wrapped around Arlington Cross, as a memory of Pao Tse-Ling's lips reminded him of a sunny day in May. Even standing in his bedroom on a warm August night, she was a special being that brought a moment of bliss to Arlington.

Motioning around to face his guest, he was greeted with a wonderful sight, "Oh, my.”

Slowly making his way towards her, Cross’s hands waved against delicate shoulders, "Behold, a gem in my lair.”

"One which cannot wait for a humble jeweler's stamp of certification,” Head stretched upward in a kiss to this wounded man, Tse-Ling whispered, "An inspection by you, would be more than suitable,” Using a bit more strength than usual, Pao pushed him into a seated position, "You just let me handle you, Mr. Cross.”

Thrill of making love to Ling, vanished in an instant of throbbing discomfort within bruised flesh, "But, Pao, I'm not,” Arlington began to think about his ability to satisfy this woman on a Vancouver summer night.

"Cross, you're a man in need of healing. Let me tend to you, tonight,” Handling him with care, she ran fingers through his mixed hair and calmly remarked, "I can't make the bruises go away,” Circling thumbs lightly on Arlington's forehead, "But, I'll try to minimize the pain.”

Becoming more relaxed with every rounding of a thumb on forehead, Cross chuckled ever so slightly, "Hmm. And, how are you going to do that, m'lady?"

Reaching down and unbuttoning his shirt, she slowly revealed that right shoulder into the light. Mixed colors of red and bluish green took up a space of about the size of two American half dollars. Brown eyes viewed this unpleasant sight of soreness, as a slight silence overtook her. Pao's cape of charm returned to full flourish within seconds.

"Like this,” Light pink lips tapped along the periphery of that shoulder, making a final touch with tongue tip at its bull's-eye, "This also, kind lord,” Mouth moved from shoulder to side of neck, as a trio of smooches met their target of Tse-Ling’s desire, "I want you to lay down for me, Arlington.”

Being tended to with such gentleness, Cross couldn't resist a little needling of this beauty in his midst, "It's nice to hear the pearl wants to take control of this night's situation.”

"It's not for my need, Mr. Cross.” Without a doubt aroused by him, Pao Tse-Ling had another reason to get this man onto a bed. "It's for the benefit of you.” Watching him laying flat on that bed, the explanation became clearer, "To relax your muscles.” Taking his shoes off and placing them under the bed, as he laid on powder blue sheets.

Laying there in black pants and socks alone, Arlington's stomach revealed a bruise the size of a Bosc pear, a quarter of an inch from his navel, "You could relax the knottiest enigma known to man, Pao.”

Bending her body over him, Ling licked that fruit shaped sore spot on Cross’s flesh, "Every knot can be untangled,” Starting to unbuckle his belt, pleasure would be theirs for the night, "Just relax and let me show you just how gentle I can be.”

Small hands worked zipper and charmed a cock out of white boxers. Pants off and boxers tossed onto a chair in the corner left Cross wearing socks alone. Each exhale of his awakening cock in her mouth, gave Pao a power over Arlington. He grasped comforter with childish glee and howled, "That's so good.”

"I hope so, Arlington,” Continual sucking of cock and caring for those balls, she knew he was ready for the next stage of healing. Taking bra off in a quick unhooking, Pao's palms rubbed against her breasts. With every motion over those nipples, they came to attention for her.

In this army of arousal, all of this woman's arsenal would be used for conquering him. Light green panties were twirled around left index finger and flicked onto the chair that held his boxers. Pao's flesh soaked in the light and a man's gaze of desire.

Mounting him lightly, she wiggled about on that suddenly throbbing piece of meat. His cock became consumed beneath a warm slot of sweet essence. Feathery fantasy atop of him, took Arlington to a place he'd thought was beyond his clasp. Tse-Ling's cooing and supple snarling added to this duo's titillation.

Playfully nibbling on his left ear caused a rigid cock to bang her pussy even harder. It was just the effect she desired most. Pao's pinky nails began to dig into her mate's sides, getting another reaction of heightened excitement from him.

Arlington Cross could feel a river building inside of himself, as its rapids raced to culmination. Pao Tse-Ling didn't wish to wait any longer for him to ejaculate. A trick of tawdry wares appeared in her actions with him.

Back arched slightly backward, those painted nails reached behind her bare ass and firmly squeezed those spongy sapphires of manhood. Cross moaned in a stew of ecstasy and minute agony. As Pao silently counted the number of ten, his balls were freed from a clinging grasp of fingers.

He was almost there. Yet, the moment was incomplete. She would make it happen, one way or another.

Cock cramming into dripping pussy several more times over those following moments, caused both to howl in lustful joy. Tse-Ling's expansive membrane of pleasure moved back and forth with him inside of her.

Light as air, Pao moved off of him and knelt on the edge of that bed. Waiting for him to explode, pink lips opened and closed slowly.

He came. And, she was the recipient of his life-stream against her quivering bottom lip. Kneeling there, Pao was a masterpiece of sensuality.

Arlington's sore flesh had been blunted by a turbulent fuck in that apartment. Tse-Ling's care was just what Cross needed.

Ancient secrets and techniques that Pao Tse-Ling used on many partners came from several memorized pillow books that she reenacted.

Papyrus to rice paper, and parchment to gold leaf, those tender fingers handled many a journal of decadence. Demure eyes of dark brown widened with every fluttering of a delicate lash, while consuming those varied expressions of imagery.

Aspects from Asia, invoked a special place in Pao's mesmerized mind and prickling pussy.

Becoming an aficionado of Shibari and Shunga didn't hurt the image of a world wise woman of countless coital compasses.

Ropes could bind flesh of a willing soul. Yet, also free oneself onto a roundabout of rapture. Escalation of ecstasy occurred with every tightened twist of twine around a limb or torso. Suspension by restraint always remained one of Pao’s propitious positions. Those venerable procedures in divine darkness were Pao's private vocation of victorious arousal.

She smiled and dressed in under ten minutes, as he sat up in that bed, "Pao, don't leave.”

Zipping green sleeveless dress upward, Ling fixed her hair to a proper appearance, "Oh, Cross. You need to get your sleep, sir. My work here is done for tonight.”

"Maybe you can stay until morning,” Slighting covering satisfied staff with portion of a blue sheet, this happy man was full of joy for her.

"Ah, Arlington,” Brushing left hand over his face, those brown eyes twinkled, "Predictability can be boring.”

How appropriate that final track of “Gone with the Wind" was, for this pretty pigeon was about to fly Arlington's finely feathered nest. Fathoming how right she was with that statement, he began to chuckle, "And, Pao, you are anything but that,” feeling romance was about to fly away from his fingertips.

A musical zenith tracked this evening's events, as Sinatra's final song titled "Gone with the Wind" seemed to fit this moment. Sounds of the orchestra behind Francis Albert filled the bedroom, as this pretty pigeon was about to fly out of Arlington's finely feathered nest. "And, Pao, you are anything but that" Cross understood what she meant by her words, as a twinge of romantic regret came over him. Bird of affection was about to take flight from his fingertips.

Nursing Arlington Cross back to health was the honorable thing to do by Pao Tse-Ling, "You need your rest,” that same virtue, also came into play of her business dealings with this antique dealer. She did have her own reason to get this man on his feet again, "And, besides I want you to be in top form for the auction, dear Arlington.”

After the run in with Moss earlier, he was relieved that Isaac would no longer be in Vancouver for an upcoming event, "When will I see you again?"

Her left hand tapped against the bedroom doorframe, as she grinned and faced him, "The 13th's coming up. You shall see me then,” Reveling in this man's attentive ways with her, Pao conveyed concern to a still sore Arlington, "Take care of yourself, Cross,” Hand waved in exit, "Good night, Arlington.”

Saying farewell, Pao Tse-Ling was out of that apartment within moments. Remaining seated on his bed, Cross heard the front door close behind a refined ruby of warm whispers and light touch.

Album finished, as did midnight's minuet of a jade jewel in the palm of Arlington's hands....- End Of Excerpt
Romance Is Beyond The Bounds Of Time....

From a simple action in 1758 France, Manon was a woman who sacrificed her glittering bobbles to get a lover out of prison.

Seems like something so innocuous to lead to a modern day mystery. Yet, her name was Manon Balletti. And, the man who held her heart was known more famously by his last name - Casanova...

A.H. Scott sets the game of life on edge in the pages of "Rack Em".

In the world of international auctions, a Vancouver antiques dealer is at the center of an erotic & exotic quest for treasures from a pair of fated lovers of centuries gone by.

Global gains and ignoble games are the field which varied characters play upon in this contemporary romantic thriller.

Never had danger touched his life before. But, mystery landed on antique dealer, Arlington Cross' doorstep with the upcoming auction of some fabled objects of romance.

Captivating treasures from centuries prior have led many on a desperate sojourn to a Vancouver auction house. They all want their hands on these prized possessions of a passionate pair of lovers from long ago. Yet, some of the buyers have tricks of temptation up their silky sleeves.

When lust mixes with greed are just one of the balls that roll across the felt table of "Rack Em".

Author A.H. Scott presents a contemporary romance with spice and sparks of suspense. This is "Over My Head".

"What may appear as a simple seduction of a wife into a web of a husband's secret, takes turns that the reader will never see coming. When you think this novel is winding down, it's actually revving up onto a hidden highway of twists and revelations. No one gets out of this life without paying a price. A wife. A husband. A lover. Sex. Money. Power. Lies. Obsession. Murder. Devotion is at the heart of "Over My Head". Devotion comes in many shades. And, what you will find in the pages of my novel is that my characters sacrifice many things for devotion - including themselves. Devotion came in a single kiss.." - A.H. Scott

In this novel set in Wisconsin, a husband's debt becomes a wife's gamble. What begins as a bargain of assisting a spouse with a problem, takes a woman down a rocky road of self reflection, desire and unraveling events from the past. Question is: Can a secret from the past stay submerged forever? Find the answer in the pages of A.H. Scott's "Over My Head".

Shifting himself off that barstool, this man in dark green suede boots began to wander towards the sparsely inhabited bar, "For you, yes".

Turning doorknob, a golf ball rolled directly to Angela's nyloned big toe, which darted out beneath a pair of white strapless sandals, "Now, that's a way to greet a lady, Mr. Bell", her red blouse and white skirt, exuded this female's independent feeling in his presence, "Nick, I didn't know you were a golfer?"

"Angie, I'm a Renaissance man", Nick held that silver putter in right hand with the precision of a maestro grasping a baton. Pointing it into Chase's direction, a sly grin and snicker appeared.

Slightly pushing sleeves of that red blouse upward with both hands, Angela rolled a curling wave of cynicism his way, "Hmm, I guess we all have our tricks up our sleeves".

As Nick put putter away in a closet, Angie approached him at the edge of his desk. Kissing one another, Bell's raising hunger culminated in feeling her up, right then and there.

A blushing Angela Chase was being feverishly handled by Nicholas Bell in his office at the Eight Ball. Daughter of Wisconsin society, being taken to heights of ecstasy by a man who'd purchased cache into circles of privilege.

"Do you want me to get out of this, sir?", propping herself back against the edge of his desk, Angela started motioning those curvaceous thighs around Nicholas.

With blistering speed, Nick pulled off Angie's lace, blue panties, "Is this treat for me?" ,placing a warm finger between bristling pussy hairs, getting this woman to moan for him.

As he did so, Angie kissed him and pushed Nick away from her, "Treats come in all shapes and sizes". Desirous instinct took over, unbuckling this man's pants and beginning to unzip his fly. Angela wanted him inside of her, as much as Nick yearned to come in from the cold of solitude.

"Ah, I love an eager beaver", taking in the moment of oncoming satisfaction, Nick was mesmerized by Angie's lustful actions and getting a peek at Iris Mendoza's succulent accomplishment.

"That's good to hear", pushing white fabric up above her hips, Angela was ready to do anything he wished.

Angela gave Nicholas what he wanted, as her blouse was unbuttoned to reveal a powder blue bra. Turned on by the way this man was looking at her, those nipples darted against cotton.

Both lips met once more, as he wrapped arms around her back. A lunchtime snack of flesh and fire would fulfill their appetites. Nick's mouth pressed against perfumed neck, with Angie simultaneously handling his awakened cock inside of a pair of white briefs.

Both were sizzling together, when suddenly a familiar sound caught this couple off guard. Two voices were heard talking outside of that office.

Gennaro Esposito was the first person they heard. Yet, it was another male's voice that captured attention from within the environs of Nick's sanctum.

An unexpected guest knocked on that black door, "Nick? I need to talk to you, right now".

Nick moved swiftly away from Angie, as she turned around to pull that blouse closed. Beginning to approach that doorknob, he was stopped by a pleading female with a low voice, "Don't open that door, Nick", holding onto his left arm moderately, she nodded to Bell, "Please, for me. Don't do it".

"You can't go in there!", Espo groaned to this person who wanted entry.

Alas, the doorknob was turned and a harried being looked around that location for Nicholas Bell, "Oh, there you are. Why didn't you answer me, Nick?", seeing him seated behind his desk, the visitor was revealed.

Not shying away from anything or anyone, Nick calmly placed hands on desktop and waved his guest over to a chair, "What brings you by, Larry?"

Lawrence Chase, unaware that his beloved Angela was kneeling beneath Nick's desk, began to make a plea to the man holding a sizable marker, "I wanted to talk to you about the debt".

Angela found the only place in that office, where she could stay unseen. Palms to carpet, she could see the shadow of her husband's feet on the other side of that desk. She closed those eyes and took a deep breath, not knowing what would occur next.

"Yes", without invitation, he walked towards a chair, "Can I sit down for a bit?", resting body into seat.

"Um", Bell's eyes glanced around that desk and finally at a cloistered Angela beneath it, "Sure".

Sounding like a man on a mission of saving his own financial neck, Lawrence spoke with a sense of resolution over this matter, "I don't want Angela to find out about this".

"Why not?", Nick calmly asked this determined man a question, which he knew the answer to.

Trying to cling to that final fiber of pride, Lawrence Chase swallowed deeply, "She wouldn't understand how I could fritter away that amount of money", being sank in debt to the Rabbit's Foot Casino in Fairwater, to that extent of $250,000.

Earlier in the Chase marriage, that smaller amount of debt had been taken care of by his wife. This time, Larry couldn't let that burden fall to those silken shoulders of grace.

"Oh, I don't know that", exposed cock in left hand, while grinning at that silent swan in blue bra, "From what I've seen from Angela", releasing that rod of lust, Nick tapped a finger against the desk, "She comes off as being quite tender".

Timidly turning to those attributes that led him to asking Angela Carter to become his wife in the first place, Lawrence barely contained a feather of sorrow, "Her gentleness is the reason why I can't let her find out".

"Can I ask you a question, Larry?", Nick didn't want to go down this lane of somber memories from a remorseful spouse, as he was sitting behind that desk with an aroused ruler of rigidity. Bell wanted this conversation to conclude quite quickly.

Elbow against armrest and right hand pressing against cheek, Nicholas Bell began to dig in, "Why are you sitting in my office? Especially at this moment in time?"

Holding a marker the size of Larry's, there was no way that this unlucky loser would be able to pay it off. Nick knew this fact, even before the whiff of Angie's perfume wafted over him in room 4 of the Tropical Palms Motel.

He sat waiting for Chase to come up with a plausible response. The words, which came from Larry's mouth, surprised a trio of beings in the Eight Ball.

"This amount of money can't be paid back to you overnight", deep breath taken, "Look at it from my point of view, Nick", reflecting on life with a spouse that wasn't a mental midget, "Angela, isn't stupid", Larry drifted to thoughts of previous blots of physical shortcomings in his marriage, "She can sense things".

"I bet she does", agreeing with Lawrence Chase's assessments, Nicholas Bell referred to his own thoughts of Angela's sensuality when they were together.

Nick's exposed cock, engorged with excitement, dangled at a degree from his unzipped pants. With a carefree smile on that face, he gazed down at a shaking Angie.

Crouched under desk, Angela's lips of regret released a few whispered words, "Don't tell him, Nick".

Paying little attention to what Larry was saying, Nick nodded affirmatively at Angela and got a glimpse of a forgotten gem. Right suede shoe rubbed against those blue lace panties next to it. Opening a desk drawer, Bell placed this treasure inside.

Seated there, Nicholas Bell finally contained that cobra inside those black pants, standing and sitting on the edge of his desk, "Look, I'm not a marriage counselor, Nick".

"Shit, I'm not asking you to be", Larry's spine turned to marble when it came to Angie, as flickers of dejection filled the room, "But, I don't want to let her down".

"How could you let down a woman like Angela?", giving the person sitting in his office a squint of disbelief at that statement, Nick wanted to jump over that desk and remind Larry just how lucky a man he actually was. Not only marrying a beautiful woman. But, having the hand and heart of his boss' daughter. This is what Bell viewed.

"It's the gambling that will make her see me as nothing more than a fraud", realizing the depth of mistakes he's made over the years, Lawrence wished for a marriage to be on solid ground again.

Bell felt suddenly triggered by Chase's use of that word of deception, "Fraud? What are you getting at?"

"I know this sounds dense. But, my wife would give you the shirt off her back", saying something so simple to fill the void of explaining how allowable Larry's spouse was, caused Nick and Angela to react.

Nick's eyebrow slightly rose, while Angie's head sunk in distress.

Lawrence continued rolling out his feelings, "Oh, God, what kind of pun have I made", hands covered face in a blushing shame, as he exhaled, "Angela would feel like it's some kind of duty for her to step in and save me".

"Maybe you should talk to her about this, Larry", slowly motioning head from side to side, "And, not me", fingers tapped side of desk twice more.

Sad eyes of brown looked down at carpet with a sigh, "Damnit, if I did that", Larry raised head and looked Nick directly in his blue eyes, "I couldn't bear the look of disappointment in Angela's eyes".

Angela Chase cringed, as she heard those words of Lawrence's diminished pride. Reflexively clasping both hands to mouth, this hidden female gently began to weep beneath Nicholas Bell's desk.

As one eye surveyed a depleted Angie and the other focusing on her spouse, Nick had to come up with some sort of diversion of getting this man's attention, "Larry, I know it's not my place", walking with deliberate speed to this depressed guest, he gave a feign touch of an understanding hand to right shoulder, "But, I think you should go home and think about what you've got".

"You mean, Angie?", slowly motioning upward, Larry's sense of envy flowed towards Bell. It was the first time in months, that he'd felt a need to sternly sway a man's implications of attention to his wife.

"Hey", noticing the sudden change in Chase's demeanor at that moment in time, Nick gave an assuring smile to him, "You're wife is a beautiful woman" ,making an obligatory compliment to that unseen spouse, Bell gave an underlying reason, "But, I don't mean Angela. I'm talking about that life you lead, Larry".

"But, then again", an invisible sword of destruction to Lawrence's world mysteriously evaporated, "I'm definitely not Damocles" ,a tiny smirk came to those lips, "Come on, you get yourself home and relax" ,breathing loud enough to cover the low sighs of Angela's tears, Nicholas turned into a seemingly generous man, "There's enough time for me" ,left hand patted him on the back, leading Larry to that closed door, "And, telling Angela the truth".

"Your time will come before hers", courage that Larry had in standing up to this man that held an enormous financial marker, vanished when thinking of revealing an unpleasant truth to a trusting wife.

Opening door, Nick shrugged at that response, "Well, at least I know I've done my part", knowing Larry was far too weak to tell his wife the truth, he smirked.

"Thanks, Nick", initiating a handshake with him, Larry felt a sense of relief as he walked out of that office.

"Don't worry about a thing", in a jovial tone, Nicholas Bell closed the door behind a departing Chase, while Esposito walked Lawrence down the Eight Ball's hallway.

Crawling out from beneath that desk, Angela's frame shook with shame over hearing those words of devotion and inefficiency from her husband.

Panting, Angie stared at her aroused associate, "What just happened?"

"That was close", Nick slowly began rubbing Angela's shoulders up and down.

"Too close", Angela softly replied.

Nick's strong arms caressed that soft flesh, as he comforted her, "Angela, you have nothing to be ashamed of", taking this discussion somewhere that was uncharted, "In fact, it's Larry that should be ashamed in not loving you the right way. And, even in some ways, he wants to make you proud of him".

Bell said something to this neglected woman, which she knew was true.

"I better go", gently pulling herself away from his grip, she knew the moment had been lost.

"Come on, babe", ,with a wink and a smile, he tried to charm her again, "You owe me a gander at Iris' handiwork".

"Well, that will have to keep", Angela began buttoning red blouse, "Tight as my thighs will be shut".

Nick felt his black covered crotch, as that cock remained in raised motion for her, "Angie, I'm still stiff for you".

"Hmm, that's good for my ego", unrolling white skirt down from her waist slowly, Angela grinned, "This lunch date has been more than I bargained for", beginning to step towards that door.

Closely walking behind, Nick wrapped those longing arms around Angie, "Just think about this as just a quick bite".

"And, next time?", turning herself around and smiling at this anxious male.

"The full course", letting out a moderate laugh, Nick returned to his colorful conquest on Angie's flesh, "With a lemonhead as a luscious dessert".

Turning silver doorknob with left hand, "You do have a way with words, Mr. Bell".

Blowing a few words of desire into her ear, an appreciative Nick moaned, "As do you with a cock, Angela".

Door opened slightly, as she gently began to tease this male, "Maybe you should get a bigger guard dog, Nick".

"And, why's that?", Nick held door open, as she walked down that hallway in a slow strut.

"Oh, I see", arms covered in mint silk folded, as Esposito looked at him, "And, you're just the piece of wood she's decided to fiddle with, Nick?", tittering at this situation.

Life's melody broke this sarcastic symphony, as Nick held both hands upward and began to work them like a violin virtuoso, "Call me Stradivarius, my friend".

Chuckles and laughter filled that location, as both men thought of those prior moments of an afternoon interruption.

In Angela's haste to leave Nicholas' office at the Eight Ball, a pair of blue lace panties had been left. Being in Nick's presence, she began forgetting many things. One of which was the vow taken to be Mrs. Lawrence Chase. The second remained the loneliness of not being touched by an inattentive husband. ...End Of Excerpt

For just 99 CENTS!! - A.H. Scott delivers desire, deceit, devotion and danger in a novel that packs one hell of a plot-twisting punch.

Thursday, July 25, 2013

Author A.H. Scott is poet collaborator at TonyWardStudio. Her provocative prose and Tony Ward's evocative images are on display at tonywardstudio.com/photos. Just type A.H. Scott into the search box and find words that arouse, amuse and make you think....

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Author A.H. Scott is contributing collaborator for "Letters To My Bully" from Glover Lane Press. This groundbreaking anthology on the topic of bullying is available from Amazon worldwide and Glover Lane Press.

......What happens when a piece of landmark legislation or legal ruling becomes a shell of it's former self?

It leaves citizens "Shell Shocked".

A shell is all that is left for the historians to archive.

No victory for any type of rights is hollow. But, it has to have an infrastructure that is maintained and optimized.

Two pieces of history, which many thought were set in stone; have been slowly gutted.

Bit by bit, varied levels of opponents to 1965's Voting Rights Act and 1973's Roe V. Wade decision have been chipping away at the foundation of what was considered settled law.

It's as if those who wish to turn the country in a backwards motion has snuck into the backdoor and begun to dismantle pillars of equality for all, while the front of the structure has continued to maintain a facade of inpenetrability.

The tactics chosen have not been a full-on frontal attack, which is primarily howled through bullhorns. But, a more stealth diminishment of civil and reproductive rights.

Affirmative action and voting rights are given a slight of hand by ideological magicians who twist history of discrimination into pretzels of duality. Black becomes white and white becomes the slighted.

Reproductive rights are also under a slow march of destruction.

As of January 22, 2013, there are 724 abortion clinics throughout the entire United States of America. (source: The Daily Beast)

By lawmakers from across the country in 2013, more than 300 abortion restrictions were introduced during state legislative sessions. (source: ACLU)

"Rights are not just a list of words strung together and written upon parchment. They live and breathe with the blood, sweat and tears of Americans willing to stand up for them" - A.H. Scott

Of course, as children we are told just the opposite in the hymns of brotherhood.

Yet, such lofty visions of judging men by the quality of their character than the color of their skin, can fall short of glory.

Grand words take second place to that heralded circle of victors in this world.

These are the people that I call "The Oblivious".

Oblivious they are, without breaking a sweat.

Validation of who they are in this society is never challenged in a court of law.

Full breadth of their rights is exhaled with every breath they take.

Oblivious is the slacker's credo. And, it cradles them in a blanket of unquestioned security.

Those oblivious are on the front side of pendulum of validation. While those not so fortunate in their placement in society are on the back side of validation's pendulum.

Let's get married!! Let's do it, right now!

For the oblivious, this blessed event is done with frivolity and light.

Ah, yes, the flowers, cake and presider with a holy book in hand giving a happy couple a friendly smile. Take the picture. Make it perfect for a family album.

It won't matter if this marriage lasts only a splash of weeks or less than half a yearly Nielson rating season. Because, for the frivolous and oblivious; it's just the way things have always been.

But, then again; there are those who don't get to walk that yellow brick road so easily.

Their road to justice is one which is not guaranteed by citizenship.

They HAVE to fight for equality.

It's a tough fight. It's a hard fight. But, it's one battle which those who are oblivious never have to worry their pretty and petty brains about - ever.

Fly that rainbow flag with pride!!!

Alas, those glasses of obliviousness don't only blur the sight of romantic bliss.

Optics also focus upon other hues of human interaction.

Hold the butter!!!

Six letters form a single word.

But, beyond this noun come the actions of an oblivious soul takes in rubbing salt into an eternally opened wound.

A person can be oblivious to the changing nature of history around them. If they can't, well their bread won't be slatherd with as much butter as they had in past days.

The word is poisonous to speak out loud. The action of treating another human being as nothing more than a prop of being parallel to the color of a blackboard is venomous.

Now, of course no one truly knows another heart.

But, when the butter hits the fan - "The Lady" is not one without sense. She is simply OBLIVIOUS!!

When a person does not have to go to court to get the stamp of legal approval to get married or not be discriminated against in any manner; then those spectacles of obliviousness are perfectly fitted upon their eyes and souls.

They have that luxury and go on with their lives without worry.

"Reflection can come from the person we see in the mirror; but also from a stranger we may pass as we walk along the street. We can either give them an open smile or closed frown. It all depends on your soul's focus". - A.H. Scott

Saturday, June 22, 2013

.H. Scott is author of three novels, titled "Over My Head", "Buckets Of Rain" and Rack Em"; as well as other tales of love, suspense, mystery and desire.

"Over My Head" is a contemporary romance novel about debt, desire and danger. Lawrence Chase owed a debt. His wife, Angela, decides to take a gamble of her own, which leads to places that unseen consequences roam. What begins as a bargain of assisting a spouse with a problem, takes a woman down a rocky road of self reflection, desire and unraveling a secret from the past. Filled with smothered aspirations, smoldering sparks and an explosive conclusion, "Over My Head" is available from Amazon (worldwide), Barnes & Noble, ITunes & Smashwords.

Excerpt from "Over My Head" :

Marty Balin's milky voice washed over an entering Angela Carter Chase, as she walked towards that bar. On a jukebox to her right, "Count On Me" played moderately in this almost empty establishment. Jefferson Airplane's melody filled that July afternoon's air. For this motivated wife, Angela quite aptly understood meaning of those lyrics. Larry could always count on Angie.

Slightly bending neck and head over the bar's edge, Angela spoke with familiarity, "Archie? Is that you?"

Archie Hamilton placed several inventory slips down on an empty crate and looked around to see where that light voice came from. Quite taken aback at Angela Carter's presence in this location, he moderately uttered, "Angela Carter? What are you doing here?"

Turning hesitation to a happy smile, Hamilton added, "You haven't been in these parts in a long time. It's good to see you again".

Relieved to see this acquaintance, Angela returned a subtle smile, "You too, Archie. It's good to see a friendly face".

Standing upright, he grasped the papers and put them onto that bar counter, "So, can I get you something to drink?"

"Oh, I'm not here for that", Angela was determined to get through this unpleasant task rapidly, as brown eyes gazed towards a pool table area in back, "Is Nicholas here?"

Slim form in white dress cautiously moved near the billiard tables and smiled back at this mellow barkeep, "Thank you, Archie".

"Listen, Angela", calling out to her, he smiled, "I could have him come out here and talk to you", walking out from behind that bar, Hamilton could sense a glimmer of discomfort in this brunette's hesitation to be in Nicholas Bell's establishment, "It would be no problem".

"Yes, Archie", flipping head and hair to face him, this woman replied.

"Take it easy, okay", Hamilton smiled.

"I will", woman on a mission motioned to the back of the Eight Ball.

White pumps tapped against green tiles, as she saw Gennaro Esposito and two other men playing a game of pool with Nicholas Bell.

As Nick has his back to an approaching Angela fifteen feet away, Espo nodded head to get him to turn around. The holder of that large debt would see for himself what the Rabbit's Foot had dragged in. A white pearl from shoe to dress stood in an arena of ash and dim lighting.

Lawrence Chase's losing streak in an unlicensed Fairwater casino had led his wife to this unlikely place. Fabric of lightest color revealed more about the lady who wore that dress.

She was queen of diamonds in a deck of destiny that he'd frittered away. In a high stakes game of a husband's multiple hands of poor choices, Angela held onto the wildest card of all.

Nicholas Bell's life of varied fortune had proceeded with an abundant arrival of Angela Carter Chase.

"An hourglass, my friend", Esposito sighed at the sight of such beauty in their midst, while moving towards those other two men.

Butterfly of mixed emotions that fluttered in her throat were swallowed and confidence emerged from Angela's soft lips, while stationed on one side of that pool table, "Hello, Nicholas".

A false air of being surprised at her sight filled Nick's voice, as he spoke to this woman in white, "Angela, it's good to see you again".

"Gee, that's what Archie just said to me", Chase felt a bit of gallows's humor would break the ice of this awkward moment of being reintroduced to him, "Can we talk?"

"Surely", Nick rested pool stick against table and grinned at her, "We can sit over in one of the booths", pointing towards that almost empty bar area.

Angela was pleased at his offer, but declined, "I'd like to speak with you in private".

"Private?", Bell was puzzled with Chase's request to be alone with him. Yet, he knew exactly why that conversation would need to be without an audience, "No one will bother us when we sit down to talk", slyly winking over at a trusted friend, who knew what was actually going on, "Isn't that right, Gennaro?"

Adorned in white, silk shirt and tan pants, this male had the appearance of a tropical toreador. Putting away pool stick in rack, he looked like a cool coconut cocktail to her.

Gennaro Esposito had known Angela from being acquainted with her at various public events, "Oh, yeah", giving a smile to this attractive visitor, Espo rolled out the welcome mat to their unfiltered world, "Hello, Angela You look like a blue cloud of joy".

"Hi, Gennaro", polite to a fault, Arthur Carter's daughter smiled back, "Thanks for the compliment", returning to the point of this visit in the first place, "Please, Nick. I really need to talk to you, alone".

"Hey, how can I resist a request from such a lovely lady", nodding head in direction of Esposito, he added, "Hold all my calls, Espo", holding right hand outward to Angela, this male in his 30's pointed towards a back office, "We can talk in my office".

Angela Carter Chase slowly sauntered down a small hallway that led to Bell's office, as he followed behind her in the mode of a wolf salivating at a juicy mouse. Nicholas turned head and winked back at a stationary, smiling Gennaro Esposito.

As this woman entered that office, Nick closed the door behind her, "Please, have a seat, Angela".

"I think I'll stand", calmly replying to Bell's offer.

"It's your decision", smiling at her, he sat down behind his desk, "Well, how cliché it would be of me to ask", slightly snickering in a quizzical tone, "But, what brings you by?"

Angela pulled a few loosened strands of hair behind her ear, as she took a deep breath, "I think you know why I'm here, Nicholas".

"Angela, Angela", with glint of cheer in his voice, he cleaned teeth minutely, "You remember all my friends call me Nick", remembering their meeting years prior.

"Maybe you should spell it out for me, Mrs. Chase", letting Angela feel a quick sting of hearing herself as the spouse of an unlucky gambler.

Wife in white wardrobe placed her cards of purpose onto Nick Bell's desk, "I'm here to talk to you about Lawrence's debt".

Brows arched in response, "Ah, so I guess your husband can't handle this himself?", unable to avoid chuckling at this vision of loveliness taking on a responsibility of paying Larry's losses off.

"That's not funny, Nick", taking a small inhalation of courage, Angela turned rigid in place.

Seeing this female's frigid air about her, Bell used a few words of accommodation, "Have a seat, Angela".

"I'm fine standing", not wanting to chitchat with this male of dubious demeanor, Chase stood still.

"Sit down, Angie", with a statement of ordering his visitor to recline into a chair, Nick smiled at Angie in a mixture of smoothness and rocky resolution, "This is going to be done under my terms", placing palm out in a motion for her to relax, he let this female know exactly who she was dealing with, "And, definitely not yours".

Arthur Carter's daughter had the air of a profitable lineage, which Nicholas Bell hadn't been in contact with in many a year. Members of Eau Claire's society would not look down the Eight Ball's owner again.

Slowly her body rested into a chair, "Okay, so now I'm sitting here", giving this male compliance.

"You see, Angela", glad of the way she heeded that insistence of descending action, Nick grinned with sense of relief, "Everyone can comply when they want to".

"You hold Larry's marker", Angela's deep breath was taken slowly with an offer of accepting a husband's financial responsibility to Nicholas Bell, "And, I'm here to take care of it".

Knowing how to play a dim-witted social climber in some sort of blind ignorance to the numbers game with Arthur Carter's offspring, Nick moderately spelled out that figure, "It's a quite large sum he owes".

"I know that", calmly replying to him, she sat stone faced.

"And, you also know, I can be a prick and only deal with him", showing how easy it could be to play the hard ass and tow a line that Lawrence Chase was in no way possible of remaining balanced on.

Several classes in etiquette and charm were put to good use with Angie's delivery, "But, that's if you wanted to, Nick", smiling lightly, "And, you're not".

"Angie?", taking a second of silent pause, Nick leaned forward over that desk and returned the smile to this brunette bombshell, "Does he know?"

"He? Who?", wondering about whom Bell could be interjecting into their conversation, Angela Chase asked.

"Larry", cutting to the quick of identity, Nicholas Bell tossed the person who owed him that money into the mix, "Does he know you're here with me? Right now?"

"That shouldn't be any of your concern", Mrs. Lawrence Chase became quite a defensive diva in white.

"By that answer, he doesn't know", thrilled and unphased in her presence, Nick smirked in realizing Angie was tossing a lovely hat into his universe without that weak spouse or powerful parent's knowledge, "So, the lady wants to make her own deal with me?"

Angela's backbone stiffened with an earnest pitch of dissolving a debt, "I'm not here to make a deal, Nick", teeth chattering scoff came forth, "I'm here to pay off my husband's debt".

"And, what if I said your money", Nick laughed at the woman seated across from him, thinking of how he could really get under Angela Carter Chase's soft skin, "Or, your daddy's money ain't no good here".

"I would call you a fool for not taking what I'm here to offer to pay", arrogance of lineage overtook Angela, as she umbrage over any sane being passing up flushed finances.

"We can work it out someway", lips parted and her smile broadened with an elevated coaxing.

"Okay, you win", Bell patted his desk lightly, "You came to me in good faith", holding tongue for a second, "So, here's what I'll do for you, Angie", smacking lips, "I will let you pay it off, on one condition".

Hesitantly sighing, Angela asked "What is it?"

"Well, since I'm the one who's taking the risk of this marker not being paid off, I think I have the right to make any condition on that debt that I want", Nick's eyes twinkled when speaking of this mythical condition he wished to place onto Larry's loss.

"I'm not going to make a deal with you, without knowing what the condition is", Angela may have been desperate in helping her husband, but she wasn't an idiot in negotiating with someone.

"Ah, the lady is quite eager, isn't she?", smirk of joy came over Bell's face, as Nick tossed an offer out, "A time limit".

Angela thought she must have misheard those two statements from Nicholas, "You must be joking?"

"Do you see me grinning, sugar?", joviality faded from a handsome male's face, as Nicholas Bell's brow arched in an honest assessment of his own interest.

"What you're saying would take more than just a few hors to pull together", almost at that point of a speechless sparrow in this eagle's presence, Angela Carter Chase has taken that time limit and attempted to shift the burden of fairness into this man's court.

"Oh, baby, I do know that", as if his tongue were a stiletto, every word popped with that piercing tone of staccato, "But, then again", he smiled at her, "Angela Chase, you're the one that came here on Larry's behalf".

Chase gave a coquettish chuckle to a man she'd met almost a decade earlier, "It's not like that kind of money is just laying around, Nick".

"So, then what are you getting at?", Angela's shrug of moderation flowed from her being, when quizzing him.

"There is something that can be as bountiful as a bushel of cash", tapping fingertips of both hands together and rocking body in that office chair behind the desk, Nicholas gave a longing look at Angela's ample assets from the waist up.

Lawrence Chase may have lacked ability to pay back that chunk of cash. But, then again, a priceless treasure is what was situated in Nicholas Bell's office.

Clarity of motives unraveled before those soft brown eyes of that female. A stammer came over Angela with a stunted stream of words, "What do you want, Nick?"

Straightening himself out of that chair, Nick walked out from behind that desk towards a Angie and a single word came out of his mouth, "You"............

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"Buckets Of Rain" is a conspiracy thriller. Murder in a sleepy Michigan town leads to an investigation that uncovers a conspiracy just beneath the cloak of civility. A couple attacked. Two lives destroyed. Truths become exposed in the harshest way to avoid. When "Buckets Of Rain" cascade, illusions of secrets in life's blind spots begin to fade. A.H. Scott pulls the trigger on a thriller that's truly a killer. Even days when the sun shines brightest, "Buckets Of Rain" fall. The most dangerous place to be is at the helm of hubris. Danger is closer than you think. "Buckets Of Rain" is available from Amazon (worldwide) and Smashwords.

Excerpt from "Buckets Of Rain":

Coral lips, moist as medium rare mignon, smiled with blushing bashfulness at this male stranger. Bright beam of daylight, DeeDee Howard; stood as an unprotected lamb in a dark arena of this quite capable, purveyor of punishment, Victor Arrington. Braided feelings, of both scorn and lust, thundered down his spine.

Whipping against those ascending, raging reins, flames of cooled carnality suddenly smoldered within Arrington once more. Cherished gem of classic beauty is what DeeDee was and even received a smile of cloistered longing from Victor.

No doubt about it, she did have lovely looks; which in some ways, made what was about to happen to her sparkling world, all the more tragically justifiable.

Print dress with square neckline, had narrow straps, in the vein of Fettuccine. With an inverted pleat gathered by a back drawstring and concealed back zipper, it exuded a bold bosom. Spruce hue, had a splash of a light green faded color, in a mini leaf print. That dress gave this wearer a look of a sprawling spider plant fanning around this female's flesh. Around willowy neck, hung a barely visible wire necklace, threaded with rectangular beads of an icy frosted, aqua blue color.

Margaret Howard was an appealing sight for any person of the opposite sex. This included a lustfully vacant Victor Arrington.

Target of Thursday's strike, gave him a few kind words, "I'll take those" ,gingerly grasping folders from his fingers.

Voice was absent from Victor for a moment, leaving this male crawling for some sort of response to her, "Oh, yes, these are yours".

Eyes flicked at silver watch on slim wrist, grinning again and uttering, "I'm late for a meeting" ,like a lady on a mission of velocity, Margaret began to exit with fabric flapping around that middle thigh area, "You have a good day, sir".

"Miss?" ,calling out to this blissfully ignorant female, an adaptable Arrington wanted her attention for a few more seconds.

Amongst slight stream of people walking past both of them, from internal dining area towards it's external hotel area, lightness beamed forth, as Howard's body turned to face this stranger of no threat, "Who? Me?"

Scent of jasmine snaked around that figure, while envisioning her as a treasonous temptress consumed Victor Arrington's mind. Snap of primal hunger in Margaret's modest presence washed over this male. Suddenly, arousal's chords changed, as knowledge of knowing which immoral pathway she existed on, placed future plans in crystal clear motion.

Betrayal held all the cards, while winning out over this male's heightened hankering for humping Howard in an oncoming night. Calm and cool, Victor returned a statement to Margaret, "I just wanted to say something more" ,giving a smile of warmth, this viper proclaimed, "May this life bring you everything you deserve".

Joy came onto that lovely face, while DeeDee replied, "Thank you, sir. And may you receive the same" ,motioning bounce towards that hotel's front entrance, Peg went on her merry way of life.

With that luscious lamb into the distant crowds of that location, a internal whisper came from those stunned lips, "I most definitely will"........

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"Rack Em" is a contemporary, romantic thriller set in the arena of international auctions of the exotic and erotic. From a simple action occuring in 1758 France, Manon was a woman who sacrificed her glittering bobbles to get a lover out of prison. Seems like something so innocuous to lead to a modern day mystery. Yet, her name was Manon Balletti. And, the man who held her heart was known more famously by his last name - Casanova. A.H. Scott sets the game of life on edge in the pages of "Rack Em". Purchase A.H. Scott's "Rack Em" from Amazon Worldwide and Smashwords.

Excerpt and description of excerpt :

(....Arlington Cross and Pao Tse-Ling were quite capable negotiators. In so many ways, their skills complimented one another......)

Having been caught in the tornado of temptation with Turina and Maxtina, Arlington Cross definitely wasn't up to playing the game of a desperate dude in need of feminine attentions. "Suddenly, you arrive on my doorstep, three days before the sale is to happen,” starting to give a blunt assessment of this visit, "Now, you and I both know this ain't coincidence.”

"Do you have a new set of numbers for me?” turning suddenly humble to this disarming woman, Arlington began revisiting past conversations on the possible pricing of the precious trio of that August auction.

"Well,” unclasping white purse, Pao pulled out a sliver of powder blue paper, "I have contacted my home office and this is our new offer.”

Paper placed into his hand was read quickly, "Well, this is quite an improvement than before,” handing the item back to Pao, "Yet, something so priceless cannot be purchased cheaply.”

A tinge of rejection flowed from his hand to hers as Pao folded the paper and placed it back into her purse. "Maybe, you can see something precious, in a different light.”

"And, how is that?” Arlington Cross took off his black rimmed reading glasses, putting them onto that oak desk. Briefly placing right thumb and index finger to bridge of his nose, he squinted for a second.

"I know our offer may not be the largest. Especially, among all the others that have contacted you,” content with that number on a piece of paper, Pao continued that promotion of Flower Moon's flawless reputation, "But, it is a fair price"

"Forget about saying it as our offer,” Arlington wanted to hack through the field of Pao's veiling herself behind the bamboo curtain of that Shanghai location, as he began placing hands in pockets and probed a bit further, "I want the pleading for my attention to come from you.”

"Me?" taken aback by this Texan's statement, Tse-Ling was driven to a simple shrug in replying to him.

"You are nobody's delivery girl.” His right hand came out of pants' pocket and pinched the bridge of his nose gently. “You are a bright pearl Pao There's no way that your office would have sent you to Vancouver, if you weren't prepared for the job.”

"Maybe I'm not the right person for the job? Is that what you're saying to me?” Pao’s confidence took an unwarranted uppercut from Arlington, as if a cape of doubt suddenly began to ascend over her.

"Not in any way, Pao. You have a sterling reputation. Fortunately, this lot is among the niche that you have so discreetly dedicated a career to,” Cross brushed mixed hair back with both hands.

"That's something quite interesting. You've had me investigated" Never a person to down in self pity or dejection, Pao took a swing in her own defense and distinction built over several years "Now, you tell me why I shouldn't feel besmirched by this invasion of my privacy?"

Hearing such a snap in this woman's voice, Arlington couldn't help but give her a sparkle of praise. "Curiosity and novelty is what you trade in. This isn't something that the average house buys and sells. This isn't for the meek.”

"At least now I know,” Tse-Ling took a long, deep breath, coming to terms with her Canadian counterpart, "You and I are in the same business.”

"Precisely put, pretty Pao. So, this means you can put a higher number on that paper.” knowing this fascinating lady from Shanghai had more leeway with pricing goods than most buyers he'd come across. "You, me, and all the others that have been sniffing around this place, know to the winner goes those golden spoils.”

"You're correct, sir. I could, but, I won't.” Pao Tse-Ling's verbal tango with him, turned from glimmering to a stern refusal. "That is my final offer,” beginning to exit his establishment with purse in hand, "Good night, sir.”

"There may be another option,” Cross tossed a preserver of opportunity into acquisition's ocean.

As those words drifted from his lips, Pao suddenly stopped in her tracks. With back to this Cross, she smiled to herself. Turning around to face him, the smile evaporated. "And, what could that possibly be?"

"I could leave the bidding open for another 72 hours,” Arlington began to lay an offer on the line, hoping Pao might take it.

Pao may have relished the chance to get back into the ring of negotiation with him, knowing those four corners may be closing in around her. "Tell me exactly how 3 days could change this offer's position?"

"The market's hot right now. That's because everyone thinks the time is almost up,” owner of Cross Collectibles gave the outlook on where the auction was heading, “As the hours fly by, the wheat separates from the chaff.”

"I know this may be inappropriate,” Pao folded arms with purse held in hand, “But how high am I on that bidder’s list?”

"You are in the lucky seven.” Enjoying Pao's interest being peaked in hearing about the odds being in her favor, Arlington grinned.

"That's a good thing to know" Feeling she'd partially dissolved that wall of distrust which Arlington placed between her and him, Pao felt a sense of comfort in inquiring to Cross "But, does that mean you can be more specific?"

"I could,” Cross let out a relaxed laugh, as that feather of flirtation, which was there when they first met, tickled his soul, “But then what felicity would there be in that?”

"Felicity may be a relative thing.”

"Pleasure always is.”

"And, what pray tell…” Pao took off her jacket as a seductive ribbon curled around her, "Gives you bliss?”

"Beauty.” Unknotting his tie with one hand, Arlington Cross gazed at this hypnotic creature before him, "Wisdom.”

"A wise man once said,” Pao's palms gingerly rubbed against each other, as a quote from de Montaigne seemed more than appropriate for what journey this varied duo were about to embark on, "One may be humble out of pride.”

Holding this woman by the hips, Cross pulled Pao closer and kissed her right breast "Absolutely golden. Just as your breasts. Beautiful.”

"Mmm, that's nice.” Exhaling with that feeling of bliss, Pao's desire was slowly building for him.

With his hands still on her hips, Arlington reached behind her and unzipped the white skirt. She shimmied as it fell onto that wooden floor. One leg stepped out and the other deftly kicked the cotton item onto the cluttered oak desk.

Pao placed her hands onto Arlington's strong shoulders, as his eyes followed her every movement, "A delicate flower you are, Pao.” tip of tongue gently licked between those breasts.

"Cross, is this your idea of negotiating?” tiny giggle came out of that smiling mouth, while placing left index finger beneath his chin.

"No, Pao.” Playing lust's cards close to the vest, Arlington Cross gingerly kissed Pao's palm and let that soft hand go from his, "This is my idea of pleasure.”

Tse-Ling's hair was tightly pulled back in a bow design, held in place with white satin ribbon and golden hairpins. This woman remained a vision of ornate mystery for an animal of male persuasion. Manicured fingers freed that silken mane, letting Pao feel truly independent of conventionality and clothing.

"That's good to hear.” Pao’s hair fell, like strands of chocolate linguini against Cross’s cheek. Kneeling between his legs, a whisper came from those tender lips, "Pleasure is so subjective, sir.” ........end of excerpt

A little bit more background on the two main characters, Arlington Cross & Pao Tse-Ling :

Arlington Cross - Vancouver antiques dealer and owner of Cross Collectibles and recipient of a package from the deceased elder female in France. He is a man under the faulty impression that making a move from the United States to Canada would make his life more simplistic. Little could Arlington Cross ever imagine how complex an antique auction would be.

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Pao Tse-Ling - Chief of acquisitions for a Chinese antique house. She has been sent on a journey to Canada for a simple purchase during an upcoming auction at Cross Collectibles. Not just any items would bring this female across the world to North America. These are treasures that Tse-Ling and her employer have been quite interested in for many years. Little did she think any danger would exist at a humble location in Vancouver.

(Well, that's just a few samples from my pen. All three of these novels are just 99 cents, as well as other tales I've written that are available for purchase at Amazon Worldwide, Barnes & Noble and Itunes. Also, there are several of my works for FREE at Smashwords)

A.H. Scott would love to hear from readers and those interested in her writing. Find me at the following venues:

About Me

A.H. Scott is a writer.
"As an author, I enjoy letting my characters and plots that I've created get inside of the reader's heads. I make a promise to anyone that rolls the dice and catches a glimpse of my work that you will never be bored. Your eyes, mind and soul shall be thrilled. This is my bond to you, the reader. No simplicity ever from A.H. Scott. Always complexity is my main intent on anyone who reads my work." - A.H. Scott ==
“I want the reader to be affected in two ways - above the neck & below the belt”. - A.H. Scott ===
"I don't write for children. I write for adults". - A.H. Scott
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"I believe art should be as enigmatic as the artist who creates it." A. H. Scott
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"Silence is acceptance. Acceptance is conquest. Conquest is a rainbow obscured by a black cloud of contempt".
- A.H. Scott